


Bad Guys

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: American Gothic
Genre: Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fandom Stocking 2013, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucas rescues Gail and insists on caring for her during her recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Guys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mravensblood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mravensblood/gifts).



> I was so happy to see AG listed in your stocking, since you'd written me such a great American Gothic story a couple of years ago!
> 
> I kind of feel like AG canon, as inconsistent and strange as it often was, can safely be ignored. But if you'd rather not, then this is set at some point before Plague Sower, or in some canon-close AU where they didn't get it on in that episode. :)
> 
> Happy 2014!

Gail was a preparer, a planner. She was used to taking good care of herself. Words others used to describe her included responsible, tedious, meticulous, attentive to detail, conscientious. All things that made her a good reporter. Which made the fact that she’d ended up walking alone in one of the shadier parts of town after dark at least twice as stupid.

She’d had a lead on someone who thought he had information about the fire at the paper that killer her parents. He’d never shown up, and she’d stayed too long hoping he was simply late. Gail hurried, almost a light jog, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to her that the whole thing had been some sort of plan to lure her away from her car--the meeting place was inside an abandoned industrial site. Maybe she’d been set up, but for what? Or maybe it was just a crank. It happened. She should have known better.

God, she was starting to think like Lucas Buck. A conspiracy would have been the first thing he suspected before any other more innocent explanations. Gail was about to scold herself for thinking of him at all when a hand grabbed her arm and spun her.

“Where you goin’ in such a hurry, pretty girl? Why don’t you spend a little time with me. I’ll be nice to ya.”

For the second time in one night, Gail’s reporter instincts abandoned her. She noticed the man had dark brown eyes and crooked teeth, but all other details were lost as she struggled to pull herself free. His fingers went around her throat, closing off her air supply. She clawed at his hand, tried to reach for his face, anything to be able to take a breath and swallow. When she thought she might pass out, the man threw her to the ground.

This man was going to hurt her, maybe kill her, and she couldn’t defend herself, because she still couldn’t take a good breath. Someone shouted--no, _roared_ \-- her name, then the man looming over her screamed. Air moved, shadows grew and shifted, but Gail saw nothing.

A hand touched her hair, and she was lifted in strong arms. She felt safe, even though she couldn’t see a face or truly understand what was going on. But she sensed why she felt safe, she sensed _who_ did that, and that was enough.

***

The man reached for her, crooked teeth growing, lengthening, his eyes bleeding to red, his hands turning to claws. In Gail’s nightmare, she finally drew breath and screamed the only name that came to her mind. _Lucas!_

She snapped awake with the worst sore throat she’d ever had in her life, made worse by her screaming _Lucas, Lucas_ over and over.

"I've got you, it's okay." Lucas shifted from where he sat on the edge of the bed to sit partially behind her and wrap an arm around her, one hand stroking her hair. "You're safe now, you're with me."

She stopped screaming and relaxed into his arms, panting as if she'd just sprinted a hundred yards. He kept whispering in her ear that she was safe, she was with him, it was okay. By the time her breathing slowed close to normal, she managed a few painful swallows. She gingerly pressed her fingertips to her neck, wincing at the dull, bruised ache on the outside. It felt like it should be black and blue. 

“Feel as bad as it looks?” Lucas’ voice was soft, but Gail flinched. 

She shifted a little, indicating that he could let go, even though part of her wanted him to stay there. He shifted to sit on the edge of the bed again, so Gail lay back down.

“Depends on how bad it looks,” she answered, trying to sound calm. 

The corner of Lucas’ mouth turned up. He placed his hand over the one she rested on her stomach. Gail didn’t move her hand to pull it away or take his, she simply allowed it to stay there. She lifted her head, wincing, and looked at the masculine decor and expensive furnishings. A pole with an IV bag hanging from it stood next to the bed. Some other equipment surrounded her, as well.

“I brought you home,” Lucas answered, before she could even ask.

“Your home?”

He nodded. “Home. Of course.”

A man with a stethoscope draped around his neck stepped through the open door. “Miss Emory? I’m Dr. Ames, an old friend of Lucas’. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Do you mind?” His eyebrows lifted, asking for permission.

Gail shrugged and shook her head at the same time. He took her pulse, listened to her heart and listened to her breathing, then quickly examined her neck.

“Is she going to live, doctor?” Lucas grinned and looked at Gail as he asked.

“Yes, she’s going to be just fine.”

“In the room, right here,” Gail said.

The doctor laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ve left some anti-inflammatory pain medication on the nightstand for you. It’ll help your throat feel better, faster.” He patted her hand, nodded at Lucas, and left.

“What the hell’s going on? I get attacked, and instead of taking me to a hospital--”

“Dr. Ames is top-notch. And I can keep a better eye on you here, all without worrying that Dr. Matt might come in and decide to over-medicate you or make some life-threatening mistake.”

“That’s not why--”

“He’s a drunk, Miss Emory, and I didn’t want to risk him treating you. And no, that’s not the only reason I brought you here.”

Gail didn’t press to hear more of his reasons. “The man who attacked me. Has he been arrested?”

Lucas smirked at her, then stood to pace slowly around her bed. “He met with an unfortunate accident and won’t be hurting anyone else.”

“Lucas,” Gail warned.

“I pursued him to make the arrest, and he made the unwise choice to dash into traffic to escape. He was hit and killed.”

“Killed instantly?” _Why am I asking?_

“No. He was hit several times, apparently. Seemed like he just kept trying to cross the street, giving no heed to the cars whatsoever, and they had no time to stop. Desperate to escape, lots of priors . . . the world won’t weep for him. Neither should you.”

“How did you do it?” Gail squinted, her breath coming faster at the idea that Lucas had killed the man who attacked her. She knew it in her bones, and she knew it wasn’t a quick death. “You ran him over again and again?”

“Now, Miss Emory, I know you don’t want to accuse me of doing something illegal. I was in pursuit, on foot, and he did a decidedly stupid thing. We passed a couple of security cameras that prove I was only running behind him. It's my job to keep the bad guys from hurting my . . . law-abiding citizens. That's all I did.”

Gail started to sit up, but Lucas’ hand on her shoulder and the pain in her throat and upper chest convinced her to stay down. “There was no traffic when I was walking. Where did this impassable traffic come from?”

Lucas’ mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Just came out of nowhere . . . as these things sometimes do.”

Gail chewed her lip and tried not to look scared and vulnerable. “He was going to--”

Lucas shook his head and sat again. “We don’t know what he was going to do, but whatever it was, it wasn’t going to happen.” He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Not in my town. Not to you.”

Gail nodded and took a deep breath. "Lucas, I--"

“Don’t thank me. I don’t want thanks for doing it.”

How did he always seem to know what she was about to say? She nodded. “All right. But there’s no reason for me to stay here now. I can go--”

“No, ma’am,” Lucas said, standing and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’ve hired a nursing staff to see to your every need for at least a few days. That’s what I want from you instead of a thank you. Let me take care of you, just until you’re feeling better.”

 _No, that’s ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with only a minor injury, and there’s no good reason for me to stay here._ That’s what Gail thought, but all that came out of her mouth was _all right._

***

Four days after Gail was attacked, she sat down to dinner with Lucas prepared to tell him she was going home, though Gail had to admit staying there had been nice. She was waited on, her condition was monitored, and every need was met. She had breakfast with Lucas before he went to work, he came home for lunch to eat with her, and they had dinner in his lavish dining room the second day--the first, he insisted she stay in bed, but brought their dinner to his room.

 _His room_. Despite having guest rooms, Lucas had put her in _his bed_ and given it up for the duration of her stay. She’d worried that he might try to talk her into them sharing the bed, especially after a couple of days, but he’d been a perfect gentleman. And his bed was comfortable and warm and even smelled like him.

Gail had gotten an erotic thrill out of the idea that maybe the night before she came, he’d slept on those same sheets, his head on that same pillowcase. She’d inhaled deeply and felt herself growing warm and wet. Then Lucas had knocked, and she’d scolded herself after he’d gone. And worried all evening that he’d somehow known.

Tonight, she intended to sleep in her own bed. They began eating, and Gail said, “I know you didn’t want my thanks, but you have them. Thank you, Lucas.”

He nodded, gentlemanly. “Anytime. How’s your throat.”

“So much better.” She swallowed the warm soup and licked her lips. “Better enough, in fact, that I should really go home.”

Lucas nodded. “I figured as much. But it’s already dinnertime. Go tomorrow morning? You might as well sleep here one more night.”

“Well, I--I--” Gail nodded. There was no good reason not to simply stay and leave tomorrow. She had nothing to hurry back to, after all. And a part of her, the part that wasn’t meticulous or responsible or conscientious, wanted to stay. "All right."

“Good. I have to admit, Miss Emory, I was hoping that once you’d spent a few nights in my bed, you’d never want to leave it.” Lucas tilted his face down but look up at her with his eyes, and she felt that same warm, wetness building inside her.

“It’s a very comfortable bed.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

“It is. Big, too. Big enough for two. Hell, for five.” He flashed a grin.

“Have you had five in it before?”

“My, my. Now that’s a personal question, isn't it? No, I have not. It’s most comfortable just with two. Would you like to try it sometime and see?”

Gail stared, not sure how to answer that without giving herself away and letting him know that yes, actually, she might like that.

“Don’t worry, Miss Emory. I don’t mean tonight. That last thing I want is you thinking I expect something from you in exchange for my hospitality. I don’t. If we share my bed, it won’t be because I’m owed anything, real or imagined.” Lucas sipped from his wine glass, never looking away from Gail.

“Actually . . . I wouldn’t think that. Of all the things I might think about you, Lucas, that you would demand something from me for saving my life . . . that’s not one of them. At least not this time.” Gail swallowed hard, not sure why she was admitting that, or why she felt that way in the first place. She shouldn’t trust him--there was something evil in Lucas, something undeniable--so why did she?

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Gail only realized Lucas had said _that_ when she heard him say, “You look lost in thought. A good one, I hope?”

She shook her head, trying to process what he’d said and figure out if she’d missed anything else. “N-yes. A good one.” An image flashed in her mind of Lucas, leaning in to kiss her, his hands already moving on her back. “Good thoughts.”

Was there something in the soup? The wine? What was making her feel so warm and willing all of a sudden? Was the idea of leaving Lucas’ warm bed, not having him dote on her every minute, so unpleasant that she was willing to leave her principles at the door?

She took a deep breath and then gasped when she found Lucas standing next to her. She could smell him, the same masculine smell she'd enjoyed in his bed. His charm, his vests, his _belt buckle_ and that look in his eyes that was capable of melting her insides . . . he was too close, and she was just too worn down by how wonderfully he'd treated her over the past four days. 

“Something wrong, Miss Emory?”

She stared up at him, her mouth slightly open.

Lucas cupped her cheek, her chin. “Gail?”

She closed her eyes and leaned toward Lucas, pressing her face against the hand that touched it. The hand that had been so gentle with her, stroking her hair, patting her hand, touching her face as he reassured her after the nightmare she'd had the second night that the man could never hurt her or anyone else again. She rubbed her cheek against it, cat-like, ready to see if it would be gentle touching other parts of her body.

“ _Lucas_ . . . .”

Lucas scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. Gail pressed her face against his neck and arched her back, willing him to touch her, to do something, anything. He lay her on his bed and unbuttoned his vest and shirt, watching her. Gail arched her back and ran her hands from her stomach over her breasts to her neck, then her cheeks. She felt so warm and wanting, she could barely wait for Lucas to touch her.

And she didn’t have to wait long. Shirtless, he leaned over and kissed her, a hand possessively cupping the back of her neck, while his other unbuttoned her shirt from the top down, then unfastened her trousers before he broke the kiss and tugged at her pant legs, pulling them down to her knees. They worked together to remove them, Lucas tossing them to the side once they were free of her legs.

Gail lay there under his gaze feeling totally naked despite wearing panties, a bra and a shirt, though unbuttoned. Lucas pressed his palm against her stomach, over her navel, the turned his hand, fingers pointing down. He kissed her again, sending a rush of warmth to where his fingers were slipping beneath the edge of her panties. She parted her legs a little in response, then cried out into the kiss as his fingertips touched her with just the right mix of gentleness and force.

Two fingers dipped into Gail while Lucas’ thumb tapped and circled and took her apart in only seconds. She breathed  _Lucas_ as she came, squeezing around his fingers and arching against his hand, her fingers clawing into his shoulders. After she shuddered with one last spasm, she watched Lucas stand and remove the rest of his clothes.

She reached for him and squeezed around his hard length, moaning. Her orgasm had somehow been wholly satisfying but so arousing at the same time that she had to have more. She wanted Lucas inside her. He was so hard, the flesh hot in her hand. She stroked him, tugging him closer as she did so.

Lucas grabbed the edge of her panties and tugged, tearing them free and making her body jump a little off the mattress as the material gave. She cried out in surprise, then moaned at the rush of wetness between her legs. Lucas covered Gail’s body with his own and sank into her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her fingernails scratched down his back, making him hiss. She pushed her body up, meeting every thrust, her moans as loud as his. Finally, Lucas took her hands in his and pressed them to the pillow on each side of her face. He pressed there for leverage as he thrust into her, faster and faster, her legs wrapping around him to hang on.

When Gail felt his body stutter as if he didn’t know whether to thrust or hold still, she squeezed around him and felt her own orgasm slam into her. They cried out together, Lucas freezing and then pounding into her once, twice, while she tossed her head back and shouted, the pleasure even more intense than a moment ago.

Panting against her neck, Lucas shifted his hips, moving inside her and making them both groan at the sensation. He kissed just below her ear, then let himself slide out of Gail’s body so he could lie next to her. He released her hands, and put his palm on her stomach.

As Gail caught her breath, she shook her head. “How did you do that?”

“It’s a pretty basic technique. In, out, wiggle around.” He smiled, making it clear he knew that wasn’t what she meant.

Gail raised up on an elbow, her shirt open and her bra still on. “You put something in the wine. Or my soup. Or--or--it’s the medication your Dr. Ames has been giving me, because every day I’ve wanted . . . this to happen more. Tonight . . . you did something to me to make me do this.” Gail was angry, and she wasn’t. She couldn’t examine it right now.

“The really interesting thing about that,” Lucas said, touching her nose with a fingertip, “is that I could have done that, at any time. I still could. And don’t think I haven’t been tempted. But I didn't. And I won’t. Ever. You responded to me because you wanted to, Gail." He so often called her Miss Emory, that when he whispered her given name that way, damned if it didn’t affect her.

“But you had to do--”

“I said I didn’t. And you either trust me to tell you the truth, or you don’t.”

“I do.” _Why did she keep talking?_

“Good. Everything you did here tonight was of your own free will. I swear.” He held up three fingers in some kind of Boy Scout salute. “You’re going to have to own the fact that you wanted me, and you had me, and you enjoyed it.”

Gail turned her head to face away from Lucas. In response, he bundled her up and pulled her close with her back to him, and put an arm around her waist. “It’s all right to want what you want, and to _have_ what you want, Miss Emory. Let yourself enjoy it. You're so absolutely breathtaking when you do.”

“I’m leaving in the morning,” she said, her voice trembling though she wasn't sure why.

“I know.” He kissed her neck and rested his cheek there, sighing softly. His hand moved from her stomach to her chest, a fingertip sliding under the cup of her bra to stroke over her nipple in an erotic touch that made her feel warm all over again. “But you’ll be back.” 

Gail shivered at his touch and closed her eyes, afraid to argue and be wrong.


End file.
